Double Check
by Luci-Marlena
Summary: I groan and shove my head into the cushions. Only one person in the entire world would come barging into my house and excitedly yell that he imprinted, thus ruining my whole day of relaxing : Jacob Black.


**Disclaimer:** All of the characters, concepts, and anything affiliated with the _Twilight_ saga belong to (their rightful owner) Stephanie Meyer. The rest of the work belongs to me and should not be copied in any way, including translations, without my explicit consent.

Major thanks to Flyaway Dove for Beta-ing this.

Set: Sometime after BD.

Note: Jake didn't imprint on Nessie.

**Leah's POV**

* * *

_Double Check_

I'm lounging on the couch, reading a fashion magazine, staring at the women in tiny skirts and dresses. After seeing twelve pages of the same thing, I have come to the conclusion that, as time goes on, models just keep getting sluttier and sluttier.

Flipping a page, I scoff at the ridiculous yellow "jacket" and purple "skirt" combination. The "jacket" looks more like a mustard covered bra with longer sleeves, and the "skirt" looks like a belt. I have underwear that covers more than that! And I've phased with some of that stuff on, too!

Sighing, I throw the magazine onto the coffee table and stare at the ceiling. It's been a long time since I've had a day off and I want to enjoy it. Maybe get in touch with my feminine side that was buried deep, deep, deep, deep, _deep_ down after the whole 'phasing into a Protector of the tribe' thing that happened three years ago.

Damn, I haven't acted or dressed like a girl in _three _years.

I turn over and lay on my stomach on the couch looking at the phone. I'm half tempted to call… well, any girl would do. Hell, I'd call _Alice Cullen_ to help me feel like a girl. Just as I'm about to dial the Cullen line, I slam the phone back down on its cradle. What's the point? Who am I trying to impress? All the guys in this dinky ass town are either assholes, or imprinted, or, in the case of Sam Uley and Paul, both.

Even though my faith in men has waned over the years, I'd actually like to have kids someday. Right now, I'd actually like not having to worry about exploding into a furry ball of rage whenever I get pissed, and maybe, _maybe_, find someone to date. Sure, settling down would be great, but right now, I really just want to have fun.

Yes, Leah "Ms-I-don't-remember-where-I-put-my-femininity-since-I've-morphed-into-a-giant-hairy-dog-with-all-of-the-testosterone-filled-idiots-in-this-small-ass-town-and-lost-the-ability-to-menstruate-and-pop-out-kids" Clearwater wants to have _fun._

Honestly, the only guy I ever really "dated" was Jackass extraordinaire, Sam Uley. And who wants their last relationship to be with _Sam Uley?_ Really, the guy had no clue how to please a woman. The guy even got crib notes and he failed.

The point is that I, Leah Marie Clearwater, want to go out on dates and have fun. I have a smoking hot body and I know how to flaunt it. I've been inside the guys' heads enough to know that, no matter my bitchy attitude, they still find me very attractive.

I'm sure with some make-up and a form-fitting dress I could be drop dead gorgeous. I make up my mind to start this "Make Leah into one Smoking Hot Piece of La Push Ass" plan when I hear someone burst through our front door.

"I imprinted!"

I groan and shove my head into the cushions. Only one person in the entire world would come barging into my house and excitedly yell that he imprinted, (thus ruining my whole day of relaxing): Jacob Black.

Sighing, I mentally prepare myself to listen to another one of Jake's "imprinting" stories.

Jake sits in front of my legs on the couch and bounces up and down in excitement. "Guess on who! Guess on who!" he shouts excitedly, still jumping on the couch.

"Fuck off," I mumble into the pillow.

"Guess _who_, Leah! Guess!" Jake whines for my participation excitedly.

I lift my head off of the cushion and glare at him. I concentrate very hard on his head, envisioning it exploding. Squinting my eyes, I repeat the mantra in my head, "Blow up. Blow up! Blow up and leave me alone! BLOW UP ALREADY!"

"I'll give you a hint," he smiles.

I groan. Damn, why couldn't the wolf gods give me a break? Just one little head explosion, one! It's not even Emily or Sam! Come on, I'm improving and not being bitchy and wanting to blow up more than just Jake. I'm even doing better and being less bitter about the whole Sam/Emily imprinting drama! Blow him up!

"It's someone you know." He smiles and looks at me anxiously.

NOW!

Heaving out a sigh as I realize that Jake's head won't blow up, I sit up and pretend to think. "Oh my god! I know who it is!" I yell.

Jake's smile grows and his bouncing increases.

"You imprinted on Seth!" I exclaim.

I smile as Jake's face falls into an irritated scowl. "That's not funny, Leah."

"Au contraire, my dear Alpha," I chuckle. "It is quite funny. Because that imprint would be more believable than your Bella 'imprint', the video store clerk, the grocery store bagger, Jared's cousin, Collin's teacher, the cashier at-"

"Shut up! Those times were mistakes," Jake tells me, raising his voice slightly as his cheeks redden.

"Clearly." I roll my eyes.

He frowns at my while furrowing his brow, pleading me to let him explain. Sighing, I lean on the couch's arm and gesture to him with my hand for him to start talking.

"It was Nessie. I imprinted on Renesmee Carlie Cullen," he says in a dreamy, (delusional), voice.

And I thought that the video store clerk 'imprint' was bad; he'd always go over and rent multiple movies. Since he didn't have a DVD player he's always come over to our house and make us watch them. So, for about two and a half months, Seth and I would watch 'Jenny's Picks' from Video 99 because these were Jake's 'imprint's' favorites. After a while, he gave up on renting her choices and actually got normal movies. We still have movie nights every week. This imprint seems worse, much worse.

It's been almost a year and a half since the Volturi came to Washington to see the Cullen clan. The Spawn, (Nessie), now looks to be around fifteen years old. Figures he'd "imprint" on his previous "imprint's" Demon Spawn. I look around the room trying to find something to distract him with. Maybe something sparkly…

"We're going to get married one day," Jacob informs me in a far-away voice.

"Mhm," I agree disinterestedly. If I agree with him, he'll shut up and leave.

I grab my magazine from the floor and try to block Jake's incessant prattle by flipping through the magazine.

"She'll look so beautiful. Just like her mother," Jacob says dreamily. He keeps going on and on about how beautiful she is, how her eyes sparkle, how her body glows. Ha! Glows; her parents sparkle in the sunlight! Pretty sure the Spawn is sparkling, not "glowing." I bite my tongue from saying anything and keep flipping the pages of the magazine, each flip becoming increasingly aggressive as his chatter gets worse and worse.

"Her dress will be so beautiful…" He trails off into "imprint" land.

Okay, enough is enough. The idiot needs to be set straight. I can't take anymore of this "imprint" crap. What number is this one? Seven? I look over at Jake and see that look that he always gets when he "imprints" this blissful, faraway look. I hate that look. He didn't imprint. He will never imprint. He_ can't _imprint, I forbid it.

"Hey! Jake! Jacob! Almighty Alpha!" I shout as I wave my hands in front of his face, trying to get his attention. "That wedding you're planning, you know the one where Seth is your best man and the father of the bride is a leech? Yeah, well, hate to burst your bubble, but the blushing bride isn't your imprint. Just thought you should know before you start dreaming of the honeymoon," I inform him with a sneer before returning to my magazine.

Ah, that feels much better. Now Jake can leave and I can get back to my "Make Leah into one Smoking Hot Piece of La Push Ass" plan. I settle myself more comfortably into the couch and return to my magazine.

Jacob clears his throat and locks eyes with me. His eyes are full of determination as he tells me, "I _did_ imprint."

I set down her magazine on the coffee table and decide to play along with Jacob. "So you imprinted on the Spawn?" I ask as if we were discussing weather.

"Yes," he nods.

He didn't snap at me for calling her "Spawn". Sam and the other imprinted guys pitch a fit when I don't smile at their imprints, (which I find pathetic), because their imprints are "sensitive" and will assume that I don't like them, (which I don't), if I don't smile when I see them.

Point one for Team Bogus Imprint.

I give him a questioning look and ask, "You'd do _anything_ for Nessie?"

Jared took dance classes. Paul took anger management, yoga, etiquette, and meditation classes. Sam went into book club, which was huge since he hasn't read a book cover to cover, (no, magazines don't count), since grade eight. Quil watches cartoons—okay, that one really isn't huge. But, even though the age difference is huge, he's always there for her and always lets her sit on his shoulders, and do his hair. The point is that all of the guys did stuff that they would have never done in a million years for their imprints. The guys did it because they wanted them to be happy and safe. If he "imprinted", then Jake would do anything for her, like learn philosophy from Mr. I-have-no-concept-of-mental-privacy.

I look at Jake expectantly. His eyes go wide as hesitates before answering with a simple, "Yes."

I smile, smelling blood, and go in for the kill. Leaning towards him I ask, "You would do anything to make her smile? Make her laugh? Make sure she's safe?"

Jacob's eyes look uncertain but he continues to nod head enthusiastically.

Not giving up, I continue to question him. "You would put her needs before yours? Before your friends? Your pack? Your family?"

Jacob stops nodding his head and looks at me, saying a soft, "Yes."

Shaking my head at his answer I tell him the truth, "No you wouldn't. You didn't imprint."

Jacob lets out a huff and asks in frustration, "Why the hell not, Leah?"

How can he not get it? We spent _how long_ inside the imprinted guys' heads? Not to mention the whole "reason" behind imprinting: babies. How does that work exactly? All of the vamps are fridges, (they store and keep eggs "fresh" but don't have the ability to grow and produce anything), so how would that be any different for the Spawn? She's half fridge isn't she?

I look at him. "Think about it…you and the Halfling having babies would make 'were-pires,'" I reason and make quotations around 'were-pires.' "What the hell is that? Really, I think the wolf gods, or whatever force controls imprinting, would be smarter in choosing an imprint. Really, Jake, you're imprint is half of the very thing we are made to kill. How does that make sense?" I finish with a satisfied and triumphant look on my face.

Jacob shakes his head in denial and says, "No one really knows that much about imprinting. Besides, they said that imprinting makes better wolves. The imprint makes you stronger, gives you something to fight for and to produce a stronger wolf line."

Sensing a challenge, I fold my arms over my chest and cock an eyebrow at Jacob. "So you're saying that reproducing with the Halfling would produce a stronger line?"

Jacob nods head slowly, as if trying to convince himself that this was true.

I send him a piercing look before scoffing, "You're an idiot."

"I am not!" Jake shouts indignantly.

I look at him with utter shock; has he not been here for the past few months? "Jake! For the past five months you've "imprinted" on seven girls! _Seven!_ And that's including the Spawn."

"I told you, this is different." Jake takes a step closer, as if the distance is what is preventing me from seeing the difference between the many times he 'imprinted' and this time with _Nessie._

I give him an "are you serious?" look before I relent. Smiling, I agree with enthusiasm. "You're right, this time it was on a _baby! _All of your other "imprints" were potty trained."

Jacob stands in front of me, silently fuming. He stops the slight quivering that my comment inspired and grinds out, "Stop it."

"It's not different, Jake. It's the _exact_ same. A fabrication, an imaginary 'pull'—not real," I explain to him slowly in an attempt to get him to see reason.

He glares at and asks accusingly, "How would you know?"

I let my gaze wander over him; his legs, arms, abs, chest, and lastly his face. My eyes roam over his full lips, dark brow, dimpled cheeks, and eyes…the eyes that don't have that dead and pained look that all imprint zombies in this town have when they're away from their "beloved." Shaking my head, I tell him, "You don't have the 'look.'"

"What 'look'?" Jake scoffs.

Growing defensive, (I have seen that look from my ex given to my cousin instead of me, the one of pure adoration and permanency), I spit out, "The brainwashed look that says 'I imprinted.'"

He rolls his eyes and tells her sarcastically, "Wow, that's specific."

"Listen here Oh High and Mighty Alpha," I punctuate each word with a hard poke to his chest. "I know what it looks like. I got to see Sam give it to Emily right in front of me, every day. Then, when I phased, I got to see him replay it in his head while on patrol. I know what the imprinting 'look' is. It's one of admiration, love, passion, and borderline obsession. When you see her, we'd all know by the spark in your eyes. When you're thinking about her, you would have this dopey smile and a faraway look on your face. But you don't. It's not the same. For example, right now, you're away from the Spawn and you aren't affected. Sam, Jared, Paul and Quil can barely go a couple hours, let alone days, without their imprint. Yet you, who supposedly 'imprinted' on the Spawn, haven't seen her for two full days and aren't suffering at all," I tell him.

He shakes head and says very adamantly, "No. I imprinted on Nessie. I'd do anything for her, protect her, support her, anything."

I stare at him in disbelief. He ignored everything I just said and is still insisting that he 'imprinted' on Nessie. He's such an ass!

"Ugh! You're such a stubborn ass!" I cry out, frustrated.

"Look who's talking!" Jake shouts back.

"You didn't imprint," I say in a firm, sure voice.

Jacob stares me down and in a demanding voice, challenges me, "Prove it."

"You want me to prove it?" I shriek incredulous. "Isn't it supposed to be the other way around? You proving it to me?" I point out.

I know he didn't imprint. Quil, Seth, Embry, Billy, (who has been toying with the idea of throwing Jake into an asylum until his 'imprinting' calms down), Collin, Brady, Jared, Paul, Sam, and the cubs all know he did not imprint. Hell, even my mother knows. We all know, except for him. But how do I prove it?

As if sensing my hesitancy, Jake cocks an eyebrow and smirks. "Admitting defeat?" He knows that I would never admit defeat, nor ignore such a blatant challenge.

Glaring, I accept his challenge. "Never." I think of a way to prove that he didn't imprint, to show him that he still has the right to choose, when I get an idea.

"Okay then, I'll prove it."

Squaring my shoulders, I make my way over to him in one stride. I grab his face and look deep into his eyes before brushing my lips lightly over his. Jake groans at the contact of my lips and crushes his lips to mine. Returning the kiss eagerly, I run my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and tug him closer to me. He breaks off the kiss and starts trailing kisses from my jaw down all the way to my neck. Needing more, I bring his face back up to mine and mould my lips to his. Jake's grip on my hips tighten as he pulls me closer, securing me to him as out tongues battle for dominance.

We could have been kissing for hours and I wouldn't have known. I've forgotten why we're doing this and just concentrate on how good and right this feels. As air becomes necessary, I break the kiss and lean my forehead against his.

Still panting, all I can say is, "Wow."

Resting his forehead on mine, Jake locks eyes with me and says, "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that."

Wait, "What?"

Stumbling over his words, Jake rushes out, "You know, to prove that I imprinted, err, no, that I didn't imprint. Wait, who did I 'imprint' on this time?"

Raising my eyebrows I ask him, "What the hell is going on, Black?"

He stares at me for a minute before changing the subject. "The kiss proves it; you're right. Definitely didn't imprint," he smiles before leaning down for another kiss.

I disentangle myself from Jake's tight grasp and ask him, "What do you mean by, 'Who did I 'imprint' on this time?'"

Jake scratches the back of his head before sighing, "Listen, I didn't imprint. At least, I don't _think_ I did."

I run a hand through my hair. "Jake, you didn't imprint! I've been in your head; I would have seen and felt the pull you have toward the girl!"

"You wouldn't have felt it if it all my feelings were for you!" he cries out exasperatedly.

"So by forcing yourself to 'imprint' on other girls you wanted to see if you could feel something for another girl, not just for me?" I ask, confused.

"I don't know what the hell this feeling is, Leah. All I know is that it's strong and that I'm drawn to you, but I'm not tied. It's like we have this connection, but it's not the restricting ties of imprinting. When I'm with you, I can be me, just Jake." He grabs my hands and rubs my arms. "Listen, I've been trying to figure this out for five months and I still have no idea what this is. But, I want to try and figure it out. Together."

He looks at me with a glint in his eye. "That little experiment you had seemed to be a very effective way to see if someone is imprinted or not." With a hopeful smile on his face Jake asks, "Care to help a guy out and see if he really did imprint?"

I look at him and shake my head, trying to stop the smile pulling at the corners of my mouth. I mock glare at him and accuse, "You're using me?"

Jake shakes his head. "Just double checking." With a teasing smile, he adds, "It's always good to double check your findings, Leah. Besides, you could have 'imprinted' too."

He snakes his arms around my waist and I rest my arms on his shoulders. I tell him, "Shut up."

"You're right. Back to business." He smiles before he leans in and kisses me softly, again, and again, and again.

I don't mind seeing if we did 'imprint.' The experiment _is_ very easy, and what's the harm in double-checking?


End file.
